The Blank Sketchbook

A blank sketchbook lies at my feet
It stares at me curiously as I walk by
Knowing emptiness is some kind of defeat,
It waits for me patiently to decide
On words to entertain countless pages
On colors to paint and brighten stages...

It knows something exists there
In the creases of forgotten paper
And given enough time to adequately prepare
Something, becomes a skyscraper.
A monument to the lack of emptiness
A testament to the found happiness.

Patience knows no bounds,
So it waits as I continue on
Hoping that one day I make my rounds
The sketchbook awaits my return,
Because it has faith in me,
It knows that I can and will succeed.


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